


He Should Have Kissed Her

by staticscreams



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Lyrium Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticscreams/pseuds/staticscreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips. He wondered what they would feel like against his own, if they would be soft under his own. He wondered if they would taste like wine or honey. Or both. He wondered if she would moan softly as their lips met. He wanted to lean forward, to do it, to kiss her, but he couldn’t. She was the Herald of Andraste. And why would it matter, if those feelings weren’t reciprocated?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Should Have Kissed Her

**Author's Note:**

> To give a little more context, this is before In Your Heart Shall Burn. I'm still a bit unsure about tackling the lyrium addiction thing, so if I was disrespectful in any way, please let me know. Feedback would be great! Please enjoy!

_Come on, Commander! Just one drink!_ And it had only been one drink. No, _two_ drinks. It had only been two drinks, and he already wanted to turn in for the night, as a headache had creeped around the back of his head, towards his temples. There was a pounding in his ears, and the rowdy soldiers in the tavern certainly didn’t help him, especially with the bard playing her songs not ten steps away.

“One more drink!” One of the recruits patted his back, sliding a tall mug of ale his way.

“I think I’ve had enough,” Cullen said, “it’s late. I should probably-”

“Nonsense!” Another recruit tried to persuade him to stay, “the night is still young!”

“We have an early start tomorrow,” The Commander reminded them, trying not to sound too bitter and annoyed. The headache was certainly getting to him. However, tomorrow would just be another day of drills. Early morning drills. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He was, however, looking forward to the Herald dropping by to talk to him. He enjoyed it when she did, no matter how brief their encounters were.

“Are you sure?” The first recruit asked, and he nodded.

“Perhaps another time,” Cullen sighed, noticing the disappointment on the recruits faces. Cullen rose from his seat, making his way across the tavern towards the door. Once he finally stepped outside, the cool, wintry air washed over him, instantly soothing his head. Snowflakes buried themselves in his fur mantle and hair, clinging to the bottom of his boots and his coat.

It wasn’t near midnight yet - the moon not too high in the night sky, however it was late, he realized, letting out a quiet yawn. He was definitely tired. He was glad he left the tavern when he did - he wouldn’t want to have been sucked in for another few rounds. He turned towards the Chantry and began walking, the sound of the snow crunching under his boots making the worst pounding sound in his head. He hadn’t made it very far when he heard someone calling for him.

“Cullen!” He stopped in his tracks, turning back to see who was calling his name. The Herald of Andraste, Ailise Trevelyan, strode towards him, her hands clasped behind her back, a grin on her lips. Her freckled nose and cheeks were a light shade of rose from the cold, and her hair was braided as it usually was, with just a few dark golden strands framing her face. She looked beautiful. She always did. From the moment he first saw her, he knew that she was beautiful. Even covered in blood and gore from the demons she had been fighting.

Cullen nodded at her, unable to form a proper _hello._ He was terribly afraid that the two drinks he had were getting to him already. He was glad he opted out of another.

“Leaving so early?” She asked, stopping in front of him.

“Yes, I...have a bit of a headache. And tomorrow I have an early start. You’re, uh, going into the tavern?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I’m meeting Sera and Varric there. We’re hoping to get a game of wicked grace going, if we can get more people to play. I was hoping I might catch you, but...it seems as if tonight is not the night for you.”

“Perhaps another time,” He said for the second time tonight. These headaches were getting on his nerves, making him wonder if quitting lyrium was the right thing for him to do. But of course it was. Sure, it gave him near constant headaches and it made the nightmares so much worse, but he knew it was right. So maybe he would miss out on a game of wicked grace and another drink at the tavern. He could always catch up with everyone some other time. If his duties permitted. He was nothing, if not diligent.

“That’s a shame,” She said, “I have yet to see our taciturn commander have _fun_ for once.”

“I can have fun,” He retorted, chuckling. But the constant headaches and impending doom from the Breach that was eerily skulking above their heads made things a bit hard.

“Mm-hmm.” A smirk played at the corner of her lips, and she looked away. He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips. He wondered what they would feel like against his own, if they would be soft under his own. He wondered if they would taste like wine or honey. Or both. He wondered if she would moan softly as their lips met. He wanted to lean forward, to do it, to kiss her, but he couldn’t. She was the Herald of Andraste. And why would it matter, if those feelings weren’t reciprocated?

“Cullen?” Ailise asked, breaking his reverie. She was looking back at him with a questioning look, her brows furrowed.

Cullen turned red, as his hand instinctively went to rub the back of his neck, the cool leather feeling nice on his sweat-slicked skin. It hadn’t even been that hot in the tavern. But it was her. It was her that made him sweat and stutter like he was just a teenager again. At first he thought it was the lyrium again, but it wasn’t. The addiction, the withdrawls - they were constantly at the back of his head, gnawing at his mind. But this was different. This was light, it was happiness, it was a blush creeping up his neck, to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was definitely her. “I apologize. I was…” He had no good excuse for why he was staring at her lips, fantasizing about them pressed against his own, or to his neck, or lower-

“Didn’t you say you had a headache?” She asked, “maybe you should get some rest.”

“Yes. Of course,” He nodded, thankful that she had an excuse for him and he didn’t need to supply his own. “Thank you, Lady Trevelyan.”

“Cullen,” She chuckled, “it’s just Ailise.” How many times had she reminded him this? Too many to count on one hand. He would no doubt call her by _my lady_ or _Herald_ many more times, as well, no matter how many times she would insist he should call her by her first name.

“Of course. Ailise. My apologies.” He nodded, and turned around, walking back towards the chantry, silently cursing himself the whole way there. He should have kissed her.


End file.
